


I'll Show You Where That Mistletoe Goes

by jamielton (MikaCoal)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Gen, M/M, but like little angst very little angst, everything will be fine in the end i promise, tags will be added as needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:11:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaCoal/pseuds/jamielton
Summary: Thomas Jefferson was many things. A Virginian, a very good cook, a wine connoisseur, slightly arachnophobic, a surprisingly good swimmer, amongst many other characteristics. One thing he was not, was a man who moped. Thomas Jefferson did not mope. So, when James told him he was going to spend the holidays with Dolley and her family for once ("We've been married for a year already, and I still spent last Christmas with you, Thomas."), he definitely did not sit in his office with his arms crossed and mope. Because Thomas Jefferson did not mope.//In which Thomas Jefferson is alone for Christmas, Alexander Hamilton is exasperated, Gilbert du Motier is having absolutely none of it, and John Laurens and Hercules Mulligan are laughing about it.//Officially discontinued.





	1. Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> This was discontinued. Sorry, I left the fandom and couldn't really bring myself to finish it when my heart wasn't in it anymore.

Thomas Jefferson was many things. A Virginian, a very good cook, a wine connoisseur, slightly arachnophobic, a surprisingly good swimmer, amongst many other characteristics. One thing he was _not_ , was a man who moped. Thomas Jefferson did not mope. So, when James told him he was going to spend the holidays with Dolley and her family for once ("We've been married for a year already, and I still spent last Christmas with you, Thomas."), he _definitely_ did not sit in his office with his arms crossed and mope. Because Thomas Jefferson did not mope.

He'd been sitting in his office not-moping all day, eventually getting some work done, but mostly just making a sour face at his computer, frowning at the screen as if it had personally offended his family. Usually, James sat at the office across from his, and they'd message back and forth about the work they were doing, making fun of something someone (usually Hamilton) said, just plainly talking. No messages had come through. At all. No texts, nothing through Skype, not even a goddamn email. He'd even picked up his phone just to check if a message came but it didn't ding, and no, nothing new. The last thing on the screen of his phone was a text saying 'Got to the estate safe! Have a nice holiday, Tom.' Damn him. Thomas felt like a neglected lover, and the two of them weren't even fucking. It was just a good old case of codependency, which apparently wasn't mutual since James met his wife. Thomas sighed and crossed his arms tighter against himself, sinking lower in his chair. It was gonna be a long day, with just him. He stayed like that for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and sitting up, going back to fixing up the essay he'd been writing. Might as well occupy his mind, he figured. It didn't take longer than five minutes until he was interrupted, and he should have known.

"Will you get the fuck off me, good lord," Came the unmistakable booming voice of Hercules Mulligan from down the hall. Thomas frowned, closed his eyes, and leaned his head forward, burying it in his hands. There were questions that he asked himself late at night, before he went to sleep, such as: was there a god? Where do we go when we die? Why the fuck was his office next to the break room? If there was in fact a god, did he hate him? 

"But I want a piggyback ride! Come on, Herc, Washington isn't here, this is my only shot to climb you. At work, at least." The wink Laurens probably gave Mulligan was almost audible, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

Just as he was trying to get his focus back, fingers already over the keyboard, not only the previous loud duo came into view, but also the rest of the group, Hamilton and Lafayette. Delightful, just what he was hoping for. He really should start leaving his door closed. Maybe padlocked? He briefly considered getting a fingerprint scanner.

"Thomas, _mon chaton_!" Lafayette exclaimed excitedly from the door once he saw him, and Thomas did his best to smile back. Lafayette was a delight most of the time, loved reminiscing about his and Thomas' time back in France when they were still in university, and he was the saving grace of the group he settled in, but Thomas could not be less in the mood. He already knew what was coming for him, Lafayette would bat his eyelashes at him, offer him coffee, and Thomas never said no to to the Marquis. He should start trying.

"I thought everyone was already gone for the holidays," Lafayette started, unceremoniously making his way into Thomas' office as he waved the other three in the direction of the break room. They hesitated for a second, all of them looking at Thomas with thinly veiled contempt, but moved along. Lafayette just had that about him, people tended to obey him. "What are you still doing here, darling? Don't tell me you're working yourself through the holidays." he asked, almost daring Thomas to do so as he crossed his arms and looked down at him. 

"Yes, well. I'm a dedicated man, you know that." Thomas said nonchalantly as he leaned back against his chair, hands held together in front of his chest. The smile on his face was not faltering, but it didn't reach his eyes, and Lafayette looked right through him, as if he was able to tell with just a glance. Thomas held the smile.

"This will not do. This will not do at all. I am not letting you spend Christmas in this stuffy little office," Lafayette said with a frown, crossing one leg over the other, and pointedly ignored Thomas sighing.

"Laf, it's fine, really. I don't mind. And my office isn't _stuffy_." Thomas' raised eyebrow did absolutely nothing to help his case, and Lafayette was already shaking his head, getting up, and grabbing one of Thomas' wrists, dragging him out the door. The impulse to just tug his own arm back and make Lafayette let go was very present, but he wouldn't do that. Lafayette got what he wanted, and clearly he wanted Thomas to suffer, so suffer he would. 

The pair walked into the break room, and were greeted with the sight of Hercules calmly sipping from a coffee mug with one hand, which was a fairly normal sight, except for the fact that he had a very koala-like John Laurens on his back, arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his middle, with Mulligan's free hand holding up one of his thighs. Laurens had a coffee mug of his own, and looked perfectly content as he unhooked one of his arms from Hercules' neck to drink from his mug. Alexander sat on one of the chairs at the small table, reading from a few work papers as if the sight in front of him was nothing out of the ordinary. Knowing them, it probably wasn't. 

None of them really noticed them walking in until Lafayette cleared his throat, and then the trio looked up, wearing very confused looks as their eyes fell on Thomas, who only managed to look exasperated.

"It has come to my attention that Thomas here has no plans for the holidays." Lafayette let go of his wrist and used his hand to gesture at Thomas, who could feel his cheeks warming up. Dark skin was a blessing, sometimes. He opened his mouth, trying to find something to say, but really, what could he tell them? He didn't have any plans for the holidays; it was pathetic but true. And it wasn't as if he could lie to Lafayette, there was no earthly being that could. His mouth shut again and he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

Mulligan gazed at the pair with a vaguely interested gaze, as if he just wanted to see where Lafayette was going with that statement. Over the man's shoulder, Thomas could see Laurens looking over at Alexander, both with matching raised eyebrows. Were Thomas a weaker man, he'd excuse himself and get out of that room as quick as possible. He knew what Lafayette was about to do, and most importantly, he knew that Lafayette was the only person in the room who could possibly think that that would be a good idea. But Thomas was not a weaker man, so he stayed put and braced himself for impact.

Lafayette did something akin to a twirl as he turned to face Thomas, a smile on his lips that did not match the overall mood of the room. "And I think he should join us for our Christmas dinner. Hercules and I always cook way more than is strictly necessary and we end up eating leftovers for a week. We have plenty of room in our apartment, and it is most unfair to leave him alone at his own home in a time where one is to be with friends." From the table, Alexander scoffed and when Thomas raised an eyebrow at the sound, Lafayette turned to glare at him. Before he witnessed a scolding, Thomas stood up straight and raised a hand, stepping closer to Lafayette.

"Gilbert, this really isn't necessary. I would hate to impose on all of you, especially since you all seem to have your plans all set. I'll be fine, don't you worry. I'll do some reading, stay warm next to the fireplace, I'll even get some overdue work done." Thomas spoke with a small smile, and when he glanced at Hamilton, he could visibly see him relax.

The seething hatred that Alexander seemed to have for him wasn't exactly reciprocated, but it was amusing to witness. It's not that he liked the man, or agreed with him, or thought he was pleasant company, but there was absolutely no denying that he was clever, and quick on his feet. More than once, he had torn apart Thomas' arguments, and rightfully so, leaving him speechless and with a changed opinion. But when Thomas rebutted him and had a leg to stand on, Alexander resorted to yelling, or simply shutting down, as if everything was personal, when most of the time it really wasn't. The man couldn't be swayed though, so he was something of an enemy inside the company.

Washington, the CEO of their medium sized company tried to serve as an impartial point between the heated CFO, Hamilton, and Thomas, who happened to be the COO. But somehow, Alexander managed to get on Washington's good side, and Thomas' plans rarely flew. It irked him, to say the least, but he laid low, made _friends_ with Washington at the same time he impressed him with administrative prowess. He wasn't the second in command for no good reason, and he knew that the fact that Alexander was third in line killed him. Even if Thomas didn't despise Hamilton as much as the opposite was true, didn't mean he couldn't have his fun annoying him.

"Nonsense!" Lafayette seemed shocked that Thomas had the nerve to deny him. Thomas was slightly shocked at the fact as well. "I will not have you spending Christmas alone in your apartment with a book, there are more appropriate times to indulge in culture, _mon frère_. This is a time to be spent with others, and that you will do. Everyone will play nice, there will be no talk of work," he paused briefly, turning his head to shoot Alexander a look, who in turn, promptly stared into his coffee mug. "And we will all enjoy ourselves. I am not taking no for an answer." Lafayette finished with a raise of his eyebrow and a small smile that succeeded in making Thomas feel cornered. He loved Lafayette, but the man was nothing if not intimidating.

The others remained in radio silence, only looking at at each other. The scene looked slightly ridiculous, Laurens still clinging onto Hercules (and he had no idea how they were in that position for that long, but he wouldn't be surprised if Mulligan could bench press twice John's weight with a single arm), Alexander alternating between looking at his mug as if willing it to swallow him whole and glaring at Thomas, who was just standing there, with his eyes on a very determined Lafayette. Thomas knew when to admit defeat.

"Very well, then. Thank you." Thomas said quietly, not being able to help a smile as Lafayette beamed at him, clearly pleased.

"Great! You've never been to our apartment, have you?" Lafayette asked, but Thomas knew that he already knew the answer, so he only shook his head. "I will text you our address." he said decisively, moving to the coffee machine. "Would you like a cup, _mon cher_?" 

"No, no, thank you. I was just finishing up in my office, so I could head home, actually." Thomas lied, pointing to the hall as he already started walking out. He looked at the others in the room and shot them a smile that he hoped came out as confident. "I will see you all later, gentlemen. Good evening," he said, waving at everyone and walking out, seeing all four of them halfheartedly wave back and moving over to his office before anyone else could say something.

Walking into his office, he closed the door and leaned his head back against it with a soft thud, sighing deeply. 

"Fuck."


	2. Deal.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an agreement is made, and Hamilton, as per usual, is pretty weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, new update! It's a short one, but instead of editing it to death, I decided to just go ahead and post it. Third chapter is already in the works, fyi! Have fun reading about these two grown ass men act like kids.

Thomas remained in his office in hiding until he heard four familiar voices get progressively louder as they passed by his office door, and then quieter again as they all walked away. The whole situation felt slightly ridiculous, as he sat on his chair, computer turned off, bag packed, but he couldn't leave because he was waiting for Alexander and the rest of his crew to get the fuck out. The problem wasn't the crew, even. Hercules was always very courteous to him, Laurens was fiery and outspoken like Hamilton, but managed to hold his tongue better than him and maintain a modicum of civility, and Lafayette's relationship with Thomas was great. The problem was Alexander, as usual. The man could not hold back his tongue, he made it exceptionally clear that, to him, Thomas was a culmination of all that was wrong in the world. It was surprising that he didn't either scream at Lafayette for even entertaining the idea of Jefferson being over for dinner, or spontaneously combust at the mere suggestion, but again, Lafayette just had that about him. People tended to follow his lead.

He sighed as he heard the cacophony of footsteps and laughs move further away down the hall and then faded off, presumably into the elevator and off to very far away. Counting to five just to be sure that he was in the clear, Thomas picked up his bag and walked out of the room, looking around. No one in sight. With a smile on his lips, he placed his hands on his pockets walked over to the elevator, going to the garage floor.

In the quiet of the lift, he wondered if maybe there was an excuse he could give Lafayette to bail on their gathering. It was still the 20th, after all. Plenty of time for him to catch a pretend flu or maybe an imaginary migraine. Gilbert would know right away. Thomas never figured out how, but he always knew when people lied. Maybe it would be for the best, to endure the consequences of lying to him and not have to go through with being in a group of people that wasn't exactly fond of him, in a holiday in which he usually spent by eating by himself and sleeping, before James came along. Maybe he could resume that tradition. No one wanted him in that damn Christmas dinner, and he wasn't about to be a pebble in three different shoes.

The door of the elevator opened to display the garage and, as if a taunt from the universe, a flustered Hamilton attempting to pick up what looked like dozens of papers from the floor, a to-go cup of coffee dropped a few feet away and the drink spilled all over the concrete. Thomas stood very still inside of the elevator, hoping that maybe, if he didn't move, he'd turn invisible and he could just go the hell home and forget all about that day for a few hours. Alas, no such luck, and only a few seconds later, Alexander turned to him, cheeks red and looking like a deer in the headlights before glaring at him and going back to gathering up his papers.

Thomas sighed and cursed the gods of fate before walking over to Alexander and kneeling, helping him pick everything up.

"Clumsy, aren't we?" he asked with a smirk as he handed Hamilton a small stack of what looked like files, which the man took with a huff, almost offended by the action.

"I can clean up my own messes, Jefferson. You can go back to the fiery pits of Hades." Alexander said as he stood up, shouldering his backpack and clutching the papers close to his chest as he started turning away. 

"Listen." Thomas said, effectively stopping Hamilton in his tracks, who turned to look at him again, glare everpresent. "Gilbert inviting me over to your apartment for your Christmas dinner was not my idea. Frankly, I have better things to do than spend this holiday with all of you. Minus Gilbert of course, because he doesn't hate me." Alexander bristled at that, inexplicably. Thomas carried on. "Do tell him whatever you must. Say I suddenly felt very sick, that I got a call from Washington and I am now swamped with work, tell him I got hit by a semi-truck, I don't care. I bow out gracefully, you keep your dinner, Lafayette can yell at me about it later. Good evening, Hamilton." With a final nod of his head, Thomas placed his hand in his pocket and fished out his car key, turning on his heel to walk over to where he parked his car.

"I can't do that." Hamilton said before Thomas could get too far. He turned back around and faced Alexander with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, silently asking him to go on. "Laf was excited that you said yes. Said you deserved a shot, that you really weren't that bad. I disagree, of course, anyone whose rebuttal to a financial plan is as unfounded and frankly _absurd_ ,-" Alexander cut himself off, possibly since he noticed Thomas' amused look. "I digress. The point is, Laf is one of my closest friends, and for some unfathomable reason, he wants you at Christmas dinner. And I am not going to be the one to take that away from him." As he finished speaking, Hamilton looked almost defeated, as if just saying those words had taken a few years away from his life. Thomas merely smiled lopsidedly, letting his arms rest at his sides.

"Very well. Then I guess we will just have to be civil to each other. Me and Lafayette are also very good friends, and I don't want to disappoint him." Thomas raised an eyebrow at Alexander's eye roll, as if he couldn't believe they wouldn't be at each other's throats. "Just because you haven't fallen prey to my charm, _Alexander_ , doesn't mean I'm incapable of playing nice." The grin on Thomas' lips was wolfish, but it only lasted for a few seconds before his expression shifted to a more serious one. "Gilbert is incredibly dear to me, and I don't plan on jeopardizing that, so we will not get into arguments at dinner, and we will not antagonize each other. You can go back to despising me once it is over, and the world will have its balance restored. Deal?" he finished, reaching out a hand for Alexander to shake. He spent a few seconds staring at Thomas' hand like it was going to fly at his face at any second before taking a deep breath and extending his own, and shaking Thomas' hand. It was smaller than Thomas', which only made sense, given their stature, but it came as a surprise to Jefferson just how soft it was. The man was so callous he supposed that he expected his hand to be the same way. Quickly enough, they let go of each other, and Thomas drew his eyes back to meet Hamilton's own. With a small nod, and a near-grimace, Alexander took a step back.

"Deal." Hamilton pursed his lips and looked around for a few seconds, seeming uncharacteristically bashful before he met Thomas' eyes again and turned around, moving towards his car without another word. It was odd, but Thomas had learned many years before to not think too hard about what Alexander Hamilton did or didn't do, so he just watched him walk away for a few seconds before he walked towards his own car, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.


	3. Dreamless.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is reminiscing, texting, and the putting away of dishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kinda angsty. Never thought I'd see the day I'd write angst, even a miniscule amount such as this, but I wanted to give some insight as to why Thomas is reluctant. Poor guy.
> 
> Italicized texts are from Thomas, unedited ones are from Lafayette.
> 
> //
> 
> This is only to tide you guys over for a bit, because I'm already writing the fourth chapter! There will be another update soon. Enjoy!

The drive back home was uneventful as always, a classic rock playlist that he usually let play as he drove and sang along loudly in the car. It was fun, letting go after being composed at work, and it was even more fun to see people looking at him through the window with either amused or confused looks. This specific drive, though, Thomas was quiet, almost ignoring Freddie Mercury's voice as he stared straight ahead, shoulders tensed.

Good fucking God, he was nervous about this dumb dinner. He could do nothing about his jaw clenching of its own accord, his hands gripping the leather covering of the wheel just a tad harder than normal, the furrow between his brows. The man was fucking on edge.

He was spending Christmas with Alexander Hamilton. Not only that, oh no. He gave Alexander Hamilton the chance to get him out of it and the man didn't go through with it. Sure, for Lafayette, but he didn't do it. Thomas should buy Gilbert some random five dollar bottle of wine for Christmas for making him do that, he'd hate it almost as much as Thomas was going to hate the dinner. With an internal wince, he remembered, he'd have to get them presents. Good lord, he didn't know all of them well enough to be able to get them presents, how the hell was he going to manage that? Should he even get them presents, though? Maybe not. He had to ask Gilbert about, well. Everything.

Blessedly without traffic, Thomas' drive home lasted about twenty minutes, and soon enough he was parking into his driveway, turning off the radio, and walking into his house with a sigh that seemed to take away half the tension that he had been carrying in. He hung his jacket on the coat holder next to the door, placed his bag right next to it by the strap, and moved over to his couch, flopping gracelessly onto it before he fished his phone out of his pocket.

[7:17pm] _i cannot believe you're making me go through with this._

[7:19pm] it will be good for you, _mon tigre_. see some people, interact a bit.

[7:24pm] _trust me, i do enough interacting on my own. gil, you can't think this is going to go well._

[7:26pm] of course it will. we are all adults, here.

[7:30pm] _some of us are._

[7:31pm] thomas.

[7:35pm] _you know how he is with me. hamilton looks at me like he's already figured out how he's going to dispose of my corpse._

[7:36pm] it's not like that.

[7:38pm] _yes, it is! he hates me. and i'm not that fond of him either. you work with us, you're at the meetings, you see everything._

[7:38pm] oh, i see a lot.

[7:39m] _that's not ominous at all. what do you mean?_

[7:41pm] i mean that i see something other than hatred. you two are more alike than you might realize.

[7:42pm] _alike? in what aspect? murderous instincts?_

[7:42pm] thomas, really.

[7:43pm] _gil, really._

[7:47pm] you two are grown ass man, act like it. you can figure it out.

[7:50pm] _not sure that we can._

[7:51pm] _am i supposed to bring gifts? i have no idea what to get any of them._

[7:53pm] no, a no gift policy has been instated. it's just a dinner.

[7:55pm] _that doesn't sound like you._

[7:57pm] because it wasn't me. the idea came from alexander, he didn't want to "feed this capitalistic hell of a holiday."

[8:01pm] _sure sounds like him. it's like he's the actual grinch._

[8:03pm] don't be hard on him, _chaton_. you know me, why would i be friends with him if he's that much of an ass?

[8:04pm] _i've been asking myself that from day one._

[8:06pm] play nice.

With a groan, Thomas lifted himself up to his elbows and glared at nothing in particular, annoyed at Lafayette, at Hamilton, generally just annoyed. Sure, yes, they were two grown ass man. They should be able to get through this godforsaken dinner without much ado, but with Alexander Hamilton, one could never know. The man was loud, brash, unpredictable, passionate, outspoken, unflappable, and a series of other adjectives that related to 'noisy' and 'unfamiliar with the concept of shutting the fuck up for once'. Thomas, less so. Still ambitious, outspoken, passionate to a certain degree, but there was an effervescent quality to Hamilton's presence that got Thomas going. They could argue from the state of the economy in Turkey to the shade of wallpaper in the break room, and their discussion would have the same fervor to it, they argued for the sake of arguing, as if a very unhealthy, codependent debate club. What a ridiculous fucking situation.

Having enough of feeling sorry for himself for the time being, Thomas pushed himself off of the couch and moved towards the kitchen with a sigh, already knowing what expected him. A half empty fridge, the dishes from his breakfast waiting to be put away, and fuckall else. It was sad. He missed Martha. His Martha, who liked cooking with Thomas, taught him how to make most of the dishes he could do. His Martha, who told him so much to _"wash the damn dishes right after you eat, so you won't put it off and end up with a mountain of stuff to wash!"_ that he didn't know how to do it any other way anymore. His Martha, who stress-cleaned, and kind of got him to start too, because it's productivity and stress relief. His Martha, who had left him much too early. A bout of pneumonia that should have been easily cured, but by some negligence or other at the hospital - Thomas was too in despair to pay close attention to the explanations -, had been fatal. Eight years had passed him by quickly, he realized. He still visited her. On her birthday, on Valentine's Day, on Christmas, when he was alone. He realized that he wasn't too sure if he'd rather spend Christmas next to Martha's grave or at dinner with Lafayette and his entourage, and someone really ought to be offended by that. Who was the offended party wasn't that clear, so Thomas dropped the thought.

Languidly, Thomas put away the dishes from earlier in the day, and then proceeded to take an apple that was already getting kind of mushy from the fruit bowl that rested on the counter of his kitchen and bit into it, barely tasting it. Maybe he was stressed, maybe he was tired, maybe he was anxious, maybe it was all of that bearing down on him once he was home. Whatever it was, it made Thomas feel like he needed to sleep, so, once his apple was finished, that was his new goal for the evening. He took his time, showering, reading in bed as he tried to still his thoughts, and held out until ten at night to actually lay his head on the pillow and close his eyes, drifting off into a dreamless, yet not very restful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If like me, you don't celebrate Christmas/have any plans for Christmas, I hope this managed to keep you some company! Happy holidays to all. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on Tumblr: @wewroteourwayoutofboredom  
> Comments and kudos will be cuddled and fed homemade cookies.  
> -  
> Y'all, this fic came from an idea my friend had, and we decided to both use the same prompt, but we kinda veered in different directions. If you're interested in seeing the same beginning, and a different development, check her fic out at http://archiveofourown.org/works/8924482/chapters/20442991 :>


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